Wednesday's Child
by LostinOblivion
Summary: While on a case Emily encounters a severely abused child who challenges her both as a cop and a human. Warning for references to child abuse.


_So, I started this story a couple years ago, after reading about a girl name Genie while studying for the psychology subject exam of the GRE (American graduate school exam). It stuck with me, and I research deeper into, and it upset me a great deal. My method of dealing with things that disturb me is to write, so that's what I did. I recently finished the story as part of a cleaning out my hard drive session, so here it is. _

_After my fictional story is a condensed version of the true story of Genie._

_WARNING: Disturbing content, severe child abuse.  
_

* * *

_"Wednesday's child is full of woe." - Nursery Rhyme_

Garcia had come through like their own personal miracle, and tracked down the address for the home the unsub had inherited from his aunt. Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Morgan came in the through the front, the latter heading up the stairs to the second floor. Prentiss and Rossi went through the back, and after clearing the kitchen and bathroom, headed down the basement steps. Shouts of "Clear!" rang through the house, as the agents moved along, weapons drawn and pointed toward the ground.

Prentiss saw the door first, and the thick padlock and chain keeping it shut. Rossi was the one who saw the key hanging by the door, convenient for anyone that wanted to get in periodically, and keep someone else locked in indefinitely.

Emily took a shooting stance, and pointed her weapon, while Rossi worked on the lock. It popped open, and he unwound the chain carefully, glancing up and getting her nod of confirmation before yanking the door open.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Decomp. Not fresh, but not old enough that the smell had dissipated either. She began to mentally prepare herself to find the body of a little girl. Lockland liked 5 to 8 year-old girls. They had linked three abductions to him, and they assumed there was more.

The first thing she _saw _was the lamp that offered a sick yellow glow, and the second thing was a dirty, old mattress on the floor - no sheets, just a couple blankets and a pillow. After that, her eyes managed to find a toilet, sink, and what looked like a doll's bassinet with a doll wrapped in a ratty blanket. She felt Rossi come up behind her as she scanned the area, and she was almost willing to concede that the room was empty, until her eyes adjusted and found a small, frightened figure huddling in the corner.

Long, dark hair was obscuring her face, but by size Prentiss estimated her to be eight, maybe seven. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her face pressed toward the wall. She was wearing a filthy, tattered nightgown, and her feet were bare. Even from across the room, her frame was obviously far too thin and fragile-looking. She chanced surreptitious glances at Prentiss and Rossi, but was too afraid to look at them for long.

"I'll get the team, and call for EMS and CFS. You see if you can get a name out of her," Rossi instructed, already pulling out his phone and heading for the stairs.

Prentiss nodded, swallowing as she walked further into the small room, closer to the little girl. The child pulled her body in tighter against the wall.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. My name is Emily, I'm a police officer. Can you tell me your name?" She stopped about three feet from the girl.

The child's only response was to glance toward the doll in the bassinet.

Emily followed her gaze. "Do you want your doll?" She started heading toward the little plastic bassinet when the girl started yelling, and then Emily stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Stop! No hurt! No hurt!" She finally moved from the wall, running somewhat awkwardly to the bassinet, picking up the doll, and cradling it in her arms.

"Does your dolly have a name?" Prentiss asked, hands up where the girl could see them.

The girl held the doll tighter to herself, and all but ignored Emily.

The profiler ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and inhaled, before taking a chance, and stepping closer. "No hurt. No hurt," Emily told the little girl.

"No hurt?" She turned then, curious, questioning look on her face. It was the first really clear look Emily got of her face. She was a beautiful little girl, but her eyes were filled with fear, and her face was pale and gaunt.

"No sweetie, no hurt." She took another step, and the girl didn't react. She put her hand on her chest. "Emily."

"Em-lee."

"Yes, Emily no hurt," she said, taking another step toward the girl, now barely a foot and a half away. She pulled out her credentials, and showed the girl her shield. "Emily, police officer."

She looked at the badge, and reached out a finger to touch it, but it was pretty clear she didn't know what it meant. She looked at Emily. "No hurt?"

"No hurt," Emily confirmed, kneeling beside her. The girl's arms loosened then, enough for the blanket to fall away from the doll's head.

Prentiss stopped breathing for a good 30 seconds, and when she did breathe, she had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her roiling stomach from forcing her lunch back up.

It wasn't a doll.

It was a very small, ill-formed, rotting infant. Scratch that, ill-formed probably meant fetus, it was obvious it never made it to term. But, the little girl cradled it like precious, _living _cargo. Was it hers? She couldn't imagine where else it would have come from, but that would mean this girl was older than she looked.

Taking a few deep breaths, Emily managed to get her emotions under control. She pointed to the dead infant, then to the girl, and then she tapped her own belly and pointed to the infant again. Would she understand any of it? Would she even understand that the baby had been inside her?

The girl touched the baby, and patted her belly, and said, "In." Then she touched the baby again, and said, "Out."

Emily didn't have time to react, or even think about how horrifying that was, because the sound of footsteps startled them both. The girl became tense again, and drew into herself.

"It's okay. No hurt," Emily told her. "No hurt."

She seemed to relax a little at that, but still remained defensive.

Prentiss pushed herself back to her feet, as JJ's voice hit her ears. "Emily?"

"In here," she called back, and went to the door to meet her.

She had Reid with her. "Garcia just called, she said Lockland has a daughter that's supposed to still be in his custody. Rossi said the girl you found is too young though."

"How old is the daughter."

"She'd be about 12."

Emily nodded. "Do you have a picture, a name, anything like that?"

"No photos, but the name on the birth certificate Garcia found was Melanie," JJ explained.

Emily inhaled, and looked at the girl, who was focused again on the infant. "Melanie."

The girl's head shot-up, her eyes focused on Emily.

She turned back to JJ, she felt like she couldn't breathe. His own child? The bastard did that to his own daughter?

"Em?" JJ put a hand on her arm.

Prentiss turned back to Melanie, watched her holding the infant, kissing its forehead. Her stomach flipped over then, and she quickly shook loose of JJ. In the corner she found an open cardboard box, and her stomach and throat spasmed in unison, sending her last meal up and out. One hand anchoring her to the wall, so she didn't fall over, she heaved again and again.

* * *

The Next Day

It was the first time she'd gone to one of the Bureau shrinks without anyone forcing her. Yesterday afternoon had been the first time she'd ever requested to be taken off a case. Hotch had looked at her like she'd grown a second head, but once she'd calmly explained why, he'd granted that request. She figured puking all over their crime scene helped convince him. First time that happened too.

It seemed this case brought on a lot of firsts for her.

So, now she was bent over in the shrinks office, one leg bouncing up and down and a fingernail jammed into her mouth. She'd managed to collect herself enough at the house to coax Melanie out of her dungeon and to the paramedics, where she sat with her until the social worker arrived. She kept her calm by talking to her in what little language Melanie could comprehend. It was when they took the infant out of her arms that Emily had to walk away.

Melanie was screaming and crying for her dead child, completely hysterical, and Emily couldn't calm her down. The girl had looked at her with wet, betrayed eyes, and begged, "No hurt, no hurt, no hurt," over and over again. Emily had left then, stumbling toward the back of the house, where she just about lost it. It had been Morgan that found her with her head tucked between her knees, trying not to throw up again.

"Emily?"

Her head jerked up at the sound of her name, to see the doctor waving her in. Usually when she was here, it was for a mandatory screening; either she went, or she got yanked from the field permanently. This time she came of her own free will, and all she wanted out of it was a way to compartmentalize Melanie Lockland. Because, she could not get passed it, could not put that girl in the section of her brain reserved for all the abused, destroyed children she'd seen over the years.

Swallowing, Emily followed the shrink into her office, and sat on the chair she gestured to, returning to her twitchy mannerisms almost immediately.

"I'm Patty Heinz. I see you've never been for a voluntary visit, is there something specific that brings you here today?" The psychologist was in her early thirties, but had a professional demeanor that made up for her youth. At least, Emily told herself to give the woman the benefit of a doubt.

"Uh, a case."

Heinz nodded slowly. "What makes this case different than any other you've had?"

"Serial pedophile. He kidnaps little girls, rapes them and kills them." She inhaled and looked at the carpet.

"Do you usually have a difficult time on cases involving child victims?"

"We all do."

She peered above her designer frames. "I'm asking about you."

Emily scowled. "Yes, I have a difficult time with child victims."

Heinz nodded. "So, what made this one harder?"

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and leaned up straighter. "The unsub has a daughter, Melanie. We found her locked in a room in his basement...she's the size of an eight year-old with the verbal skills of a two year-old. She's 12, and..." She looked away, aware that her voice had cracked.

"Emily?"

She turned back, and cleared her throat. "I thought it was a doll, but then I saw it and realized it was a baby. Not, not a baby, it wasn't completely developed, and it was tiny and thin, and, and rotting away, but she cradled it like it was the most precious thing in the world."

"Her father had abused her." The shrink's face moved subtly, but her eyes were vivid. The revulsion and horror was in a fight with her professional demeanor, but professionalism won out.

Emily nodded, and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Her mother died when she was four, we figured it started then. When Melanie got pregnant fits with when he started kidnapping and killing girls. We think it scared him into finding a new...victim."

Or three.

Heinz nodded. "Have you apprehended this man?"

"My team is out doing that now."

The shrink frowned. "But, you aren't with them?"

"I asked to be taken off the case." She stared at the carpet again, part of her ashamed that she couldn't handle it.

"Because of this child, Melanie?"

"No." She looked up at the shrink, right into her eyes. "Because if I get near him with a loaded weapon, there's no way I won't use it."

* * *

She took off as soon as she got the text from Garcia, leaving the shrink with what was probably a less than stellar impression of her mental health. Oh well, it's not like Hotch didn't know how badly she wanted to kill Lockland, and he hadn't seen fit to put her on a desk. She swiped into Garcia's office, and found the tech, as always, at her screens.

"They got him?"

Garcia spun around and smiled at her. "Yep. He put up a bit of a fight, and I think Derek enjoyed himself a little. Can't say I blame him."

Emily released a breath and nodded. "MPD is taking him into custody?"

"Nope, we did. He's being charged federally. The house was on the outskirts of Alexandria, remember?"

"Right..." The girls were all abducted from D.C., and up until yesterday, they'd assumed he had kept them all in DC. That he crossed state lines made it a federal case, which meant the US attorney would be asking for the death penalty.

"I'm thinking about supplying everyone with party hats and popcorn for the execution," Garcia commented, whirling back to her screens.

"Even that is too kind for him. _Hell_ would be too kind for him."

Garcia looked up at her, and squeezed her hand. "We'll have to take what we can get."

Emily sighed and nodded.

"And, how are you holding up?" Garcia asked, infinite patience in her voice.

"Fine." She glanced at her watch, then back at Garcia. "When they get back, can you tell Hotch that I took the rest of the day?"

"Sure..." But, she sounded uncertain, and like she wanted to say something. Emily turned away, and walked out, completely ignoring her friend's concern.

* * *

"Agent Prentiss?" A woman finally stopped by where she waited outside the psychiatric wing of the children's hospital.

Emily offered a hand. "You must be Dr. Raddic."

"Gale. They told me you're here about Melanie?" She was in her late fifties, pushing sixty, and had let her hair go silver. She wore a simple lilac-colored dress under her white lab coat, and short, sensible heels. Simple black frames hung around her neck by a beaded eyeglass cord.

"Emily, and yes, I was one of the agents that found her."

"Well, that explains one thing."

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Your name. I'm sure you're aware that Melanie has a very limited vocabulary, she's said 'em-lee' a few times since she's been here. We weren't sure if she was asking for someone, or just using one of the few words she knows." As Gale explained her hands moved around erratically in the air, reminding Emily a little of Reid.

"How is she doing?"

The doctor shrugged. "She's not hysterical, which is an improvement from when she came in, but it's going to take a lot of time to fix the damage done to that child."

"Can I see her?" Emily tried to prepare herself to hear a 'No', but that was easier said then done.

"Sure, I don't think it could hurt. Melanie's doing better with proximity today, at least with women. She's terrified of men, and weary of the other kids, but hopefully that will pass in time." She gestured Emily to follow her.

It looked like an ordinary hospital wing, except with colorful, happy pictures on the walls. The facility was designed for short-term care, mostly intervention purposes, so Melanie wouldn't be here for long. She was going to require long-term care, and a lot of attention to advance passed her current mental age.

"I've got her in one of our observation rooms simply because we don't know what to expect with her. If I've got an intern watching her around the clock, I know she'll get attention if she needs it," Gale explained as she knocked on a door, then abruptly pushed it open.

A young man stood up quickly. "Hi Dr. Raddic."

"Dale, how's she doing?" She gestured Emily toward the glass window, where she could see Melanie playing with a baby doll.

"She's still playing with that doll. Marcy was in with her earlier, but Melanie wouldn't say much. Dr. Wilder gave her some sort of super-nutritional mush for lunch, she seemed to like it, but didn't finish it."

"Alright, Emily, why don't you go ahead in," Raddic gestured her toward the door.

Emily left the observation side, and walked a few feet down the hall to a door with a window. Melanie was inside playing and ignoring the world. She pushed the door open, and had the immediate attention of the girl.

Melanie was clean, her hair washed and brushed, and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt like any other kid. She looked like any other kid, and for the first time Emily noticed her pure grey eyes.

"Hi Melanie, do you remember me? Emily?" She kept her distance, not wanting to startle her.

"Em-lee." She echoed. "No hurt."

"That's right. No hurt." She let out a relieved sigh, and moved closer to Melanie, kneeling when she got close enough.

Melanie pointed to her belly, and then the baby doll in her arm, and said, "Out. Out."

"Yes, that's right," Emily confirmed.

She shook her head. "No. Out. Out. Out."

Then she got it. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Out's gone."

"Gone?"

"Dead," she tried. She wasn't sure how to explain the concept of death to Melanie.

"Dead?" Her speech was a little awkward, but she could echo words well.

Emily struggled for a way to explain it, before remembering something very important. "Mama gone. Mommy dead."

"No mama."

Emily nodded. "No mama. Mama gone."

"No Out?"

"Yes. No Out. Out gone."

Melanie's eyes filled with tears that poured down her cheeks, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, letting the doll drop. "Out. Out." She continued to say 'Out' as she dropped her face to her knees.

Tentatively, Emily sat beside her, and reached out a hand to stroke her head. She expected Melanie to flinch when her fingers made contact, and she did go stiff for a minute, but when Emily's hand only slid gently over her head, she relaxed again.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door, and Emily turned to see Dr. Raddic motioning her out.

"'Out' refers to the dead infant they found her with?" The doctor jumped right in.

"Uh yes," Emily answered.

"How did you know that? We've haven't been able to figure that out for a day. She barely speaks to us." She was staring at Emily was fascination in her eyes, like the profiler was a bug under a microscope, something to study.

It was highly unnerving.

"I told you, I was one of the agents who found her. I was the first one to talk to her, and I was with her until I passed her to the social worker and EMTs."

"How much time did you spend with her?"

Emily shifted uncomfortably. God, why did this woman suddenly remind her of her mother? "When it was just the two of us in her room in the basement, it was probably about twenty minutes, after that it was probably an hour. It wasn't very long."

Gale frowned. "And yet, she seems to trust you."

"I doubt she really trusts anyone, doctor."

"She communicates with you. She let you _comfort_ her. Do you have any idea how big that is, Agent Prentiss?" Apparently, they'd switched back to formal titles.

Emily looked at her. Yes, she had some understanding, but she didn't really want to admit that, that was a little too much to handle right then. Instead, she cleared her throat. "Can I go back in and sit with her? She's still crying."

Gale sighed, but nodded. Emily turned quickly, and returned to Melanie's side. She knew Raddic and her intern would be behind the glass, watching them, but she forced herself to ignore it.

Sensing Emily beside her, Melanie looked up, her eyes red and wet. "Out gone."

Her heart just about broke. "I'm so sorry, Melanie."

The girl ducked her face again, and Emily went back to gently stroking her head.

* * *

When Emily got home, she found a familiar car parked outside her house, and as she pulled into her driveway, a familiar figure climbed out. Part of her was surprised to see him, the other part figured one of them would show up to ask what the hell was going on with her. It made sense that it would be Morgan.

"Hey," she greeted shutting her car door. "How long have you been here?"

He shrugged. It was almost eight, and since he'd probably come right after work, he'd probably been sitting there for two hours. "You went to see Melanie Lockland, didn't you?"

She nodded, and motioned him to follow her. She wasn't going to have this conversation in front of her house. He was quiet as she opened the door and let him in, but she could feel the tension he carried with him. She ignored it.

"You want to drink?" His highly eloquent response was a shrug. Emily took it as a yes, and grabbed two beers from her refrigerator. Too weak to drown her sorrows in, but strong enough to take off the edge. And, there was a lot of edge tonight.

Morgan took a long pull from his bottle, then turned to her. "What are you expecting to get out of this?"

She froze mid-sip, and turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

He exhaled loudly. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean you get attached to this kid, you give her a part of yourself, but she will never be yours. Where does that leave you?"

"I don't know." She started peeling at the label of her beer bottle, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her. Finally she looked up at him. "Has there ever been a time, a case for you, where putting away the bad guy just didn't feel like enough?"

"Almost every case."

Emily shook her head. "No, I mean one you just couldn't let go of, one you just couldn't put away with the rest."

He let his gaze settle on the mouth of his bottle. "There have been a few that hung around for a while...but I always put them away eventually."

"Well, I can't put her away, Morgan. I tried, and I can't."

"It's barely been a day, you've got to give it time."

She looked down at her hands. "Won't help, too much of me doesn't want to put her away with the rest."

Morgan released a sigh that was really more of a groan. "You are going to get hurt." When she turned away, he touched her arm. "No, look at me."

She did, and he ran a finger softly down her cheek. "I don't want to see you get hurt," he said, "This isn't going to have a happy ending for you, Princess."

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "Then I guess I'll have to live with that."

The fight seemed to leave him then, and with obvious resignation, Morgan held out an arm, offering her the comfort of his embrace.

She took it, sighing heavily. Her chest ached at the thought of Melanie Lockland, and what she'd suffered. Emily knew in that moment, she'd do whatever she could for that little girl.

She would not forget her. She was pretty sure she couldn't even if she tried.

* * *

_**The Story of Genie**: Genie was discovered by the LA County Sheriff's Department when she was 13 years old. She'd spent most of her life confined in her bedroom, much of it tied to a potty seat. She had the verbal skills of an infant, and had a strange, distinctive walk from being tied to the potty chair. She was the size of a 6 or 7 year-old, and couldn't do basic things like dress herself or tie her shoes. She became important to psychologists because she suggest a critical period for learning speech, and they fought over her (and the grant money she came with) until the grant money stopped coming. At that point Genie had developed and learned quite a lot, but she was effectively abandoned to a series of abusive foster homes, and later to institutional care. She lost most of her language and skills. Genie still resides in institutional care today.  
_


End file.
